


When Destiny Doesn't Care

by WithTheKeyIsKing



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: (heh), Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF Dick Grayson, Batfamily Feels, Bittersweet Ending, Brotherly Bonding, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian is Robin, Dark Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson is Deathstroke, Dick is bitter, Earth-2950, Gen, Good Brother Jason Todd, I love Damian and Dick, I want to keep him safe, Jason Todd is Batman, Mercenary Dick Grayson, Multiverse, Protective Bruce, Protective Damian Wayne, Referenced Past Rape/Non-con, Resentment, Tim Drake is Red Robin, but I never do, on another earth but still, on earth 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:52:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithTheKeyIsKing/pseuds/WithTheKeyIsKing
Summary: Breeches are opening all across the world, admitting people randomly from other Earths.One such person is Dick Grayson. Or, as he's better known on Earth-2950, Deathstroke.





	When Destiny Doesn't Care

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Richard Grayson (Earth-5029) comiccrossroads.fandom.com](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/477004) by Artemis Thorson. 



Dick rolled with his momentum, his head ducked, and then popped to his feet, jogging to a stop. He looked around, frowning, immediately on alert. He was where he'd last been, but it was ever-so-slightly different, and something was  _wrong._

He'd been making a drop when a storm had rolled in from out of nowhere, the winds picking up dangerous speeds within a few seconds. Dick had started moving towards his bike, wanting to get as far away from this place as possible before he actually got hurt, when a blue, silver, and black cloud thing had sparked into existence right in front of him. He turned to run but the winds had pushed him forcibly into the vortex.

And now he was...exactly where he'd been. But the storm was gone, and that strange cloud was nowhere to be seen. His bike was gone, too, which made Dick scowl; he'd just gotten that thing fixed up, new and improved. Figures someone would've grabbed it.

But when would they have had time to do that? Dick had been looking at it barely thirty seconds ago. And whoever it was _certainly_ wouldn't have had time to plant a few extra trees that looked like they'd been there for years.

Dick sighed, feeling a headache coming on; he'd known about the multiverse, obviously, but he'd never really had any desire to go to a world other than his own. Why travel to another Earth and risk running into himself, or the doublegangers of everyone he knew? No, best to stick to the world he knew than the devil he didn't.

"Alright, Grayson, think," he muttered. "Who would know how to help you with this problem?"

Well, the most obvious option was obvious, but he dismissed it immediately. He had no intention of meeting another version of his mentor; dealing with one of them was hard enough, he didn't need to add in another.

The second option was slightly less distasteful, but Dick also had to consider the fact that if he  _was_ right about being on another Earth, everyone might be different here. The people who were his allies and friends on his Earth might be his enemies on this one, or even dead. It was a challenging line he had to walk, which meant he needed far more information before he started engaging with people. Which meant he needed access to the internet.

With one last forlorn look to where his bike had been, Dick set off in the direction of civilization, making sure to keep to the shadows. He was in his Deathstroke uniform, which wasn't exactly  _subtle,_ but he didn't have a change of clothes with him and he _definitely_ didn't want to just take off his mask. It might've made him look a smidge more normal with his leather (bulletproof) jacket, but it wasn't worth the risk.

It was late, past midnight, so there weren't a lot of people out on the street, but that didn't mean anything for Gotham; people knew the nights were dangerous here, so only the criminals, the stupid, and the vigilantes would be prowling.

Two of those options he could handle just fine. It was the third that made him extra cautious as he moved.

A quick break-in to an electronics store and Dick had access to a laptop. He made his way through the streets, avoiding the rooftops until he was further from Crime Alley and closer to the quieter part of the city; the heroes wouldn't be patrolling this sector, not at this time of night. Their attention would be focused in the areas where crime was most likely.

Even on a different Earth, Dick doubted they worked very differently. The Bat was a creature of habit, no matter the version.

Dick ran a few quick google searches to see if the few people he actually talked to were still people he  _could_ talk to. Barbara seemed like a no-go, Tim was  _certainly_ a no (though frankly, he was on Dick's Earth, too; too much crazy to handle), Jericho seemed to be completely off the radar, and Ravager seemed completely off her rocker, which wasn't too much of a shock.

But, to Dick's surprise and definite delight, Jason Todd seemed to be an option. Undead and rebelling against daddy's plan just like on his Earth, but instead of shaping up like Jay eventually did,  _this_ one appeared to still be running around as Red Hood.

 _Perfect,_ he thought with a grim smile.

He stood up, looking over the city that had been his home for so long. A frown creeped onto his face and he shook his head; this wasn't home. Even if he  _was_ on the right Earth, Gotham didn't hold his heart anymore. Nowhere did.

The slightest patter of feet behind him. With a curse, Dick turned, shifting into an easy fighting stance. And then hefroze. Because that kid standing in front of him, chin raised haughtily, body in a ready stance of his own, was...Robin.

"New outfit, Deathstroke?" the child vigilante called, and Dick couldn't even feel offended by the superior sneer in the boy's voice because that was _Robin._ He couldn't do anything but stare.

This boy's costume was very different from the one he'd worn, and different from Jason's and Tim's as well. The most notable changes were the hood and the tunic-style top.

Dick stood up, his arms loose at his sides, and pushed down his bitterness; he wasn't going to fight this boy for his mentor's failings. The kid looked barely older than Dick had been when he started.

"Run along, Robin," Dick murmured. "Go back to your master."

The boy scowled. "He isn't my  _master,_ and I do not take orders from the likes of  _you."_

With that, the young vigilante threw himself at Dick.

He was definitely skilled, Dick would give him that, with a few moves that Dick was sure that the Bat couldn't've taught him, unless something was _extremely_ different in this world, and Batman was a bit more ruthless.

But skilled or not, he wasn't a match for Dick, who had at  _least_ fifteen years on the kid and far more training. After the Bat, Dick had gone on to learn from many people, and fighting a preteen brat was not a challenge.

"Stay down," Dick growled after the third time he tossed the boy to the ground.

"Never," he panted back, wiping some blood from his chin with a feral grin. He could take a beating, that was for sure.

Frankly, other than a little impressed, Dick was just feeling  _exasperated._ He didn't have  _time_ to fight a stupid little bird, another child utilizing his mother's nickname for him. He had to find Jason Todd, see if this far-less-than-holy version of him would help, and then get the fuck home. He had a payment to collect, and a life to live.

 _"Christ,_ kid," Dick sighed heavily, "I have other things to do tonight than kick your sorry ass. The bat's not around; how about you just tell him I knocked you out before I  _actually_ do?"

"What, no needling remarks?" Robin snarked at him, going in for another attack. "No smart comments about my skills or Batman's or threats about Nightwing? You're different tonight."

Dick's steps faltered at the statement and the kid landed a solid hit to his shoulder, making him grimace and regain control of himself, getting the brat off of him with a solid kick to the chest.

 _Threats about Nightwing._ That meant that the original Deathstroke was the one still running around on this Earth. White, hot fury gripped Dick's heart.

"Let it go, boy," Dick snarled. "I am not in the mood for games right now, and if you continue I  _will_ put you down."

Right now, Dick didn't care. He didn't care that this was a child, probably only wanting to do good. He didn't care that killing the brat was the wrong thing to do. Hell, he didn't even care that he would be murdering someone wearing his very own colors, the ones he'd chosen, the ones he'd worn with honor. Right now, Dick was  _angry,_ and this child was in his way.

The boy hesitated for a single second, probably hearing the truth in Dick's voice, and then set his jaw. Dick sighed, a sharp huff, and pulled his gun from his holster.

"Deathstroke," a deep, calm voice said from the other side of the roof, and Dick scowled. Dealing with a bat brat was irritating enough, but Dick had absolutely zero interest in interacting with this other world's version of fucking Batman.

"Batman," Dick replied just as evenly, and turned his stance so that both heroes were in his line of sight. He held the gun at his side. "Take your brat and go home before I do something we all regret."

The vigilante watched him, and Dick sneered; he knew that look, even from underneath the cowl. This was when the Bat was examining, looking for tells, spotting everything out of the ordinary. He was far too fucking good at it.

"You're not Slade Wilson," Batman observed, and Robin startled, his eyes widening.

"No," Dick said coldly, "I am not. I hope that doesn't make you think I'm not serious."

"I think you're quite serious," the vigilante said, nodding. "You're furious about something, off-balance, and in a rush. You don't seem to be in the type of mindset to care whether or not you kill an eleven-year-old boy."

 _Eleven years old._ Just one year older than Dick had been when he started.  _Off-balance._ An old insult.

His hand tightened on the gun.

"Look-" he began harshly.

"You're not from this Earth, are you?" Batman asked, and Dick had to admit to genuine surprise. When Dick didn't say anything, the vigilante nodded. "Of course. Over the last day or so we've been getting random breeches, people from other worlds somehow being dropped into ours. You're the mercenary Deathstroke, but not the one we know, not Slade Wilson."

"Ten points to Slytherin," Dick snarked.

Batman ignored the comment. "We can help you get home, Deathstroke. Just come with us."

"I just threatened to murder your kid, and you want to invite me to your lair?" Dick asked incredulously, snorting a laugh. He holstered his gun and crossed his arms. "Trust me, Bats, if I wanted  _your_ help, I would've been on my way to the cave,  _not_ towards Crime Alley."

The vigilante tilted his head up. "Whose help  _were_ you seeking out, then?"

"Nunya."

"Nunya?" Robin asked curiously. "Who is Nunya?"

Dick stared at him, then laughed, his eye crinkling. "As in _none ya business._ Fuck, Batman, where'd you find this one? The North Pole?"

"I do not like the North Pole," the boy sniffed.

That only made Dick laugh again, because _what?_ "Got itno North Pole talk."

"Will you come with us?" Batman asked calmly.

Dick pursed his lips. He  _did_ need help getting home, and they already knew he was here, so it wasn't like he could avoid them as he'd originally intended to. Besides he didn't have to take off his mask, just follow along until they figured this fucking thing out, and then he never had to see the bat brat or his master ever again.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm not telling you who I am; who knows, maybe the me of this Earth is just  _waiting_ for their chance in the limelightwouldn't want to steal in from them."

* * *

The cave looked exactly the same as how he remembered it, give or take a few pieces of memorabilia.

There were a couple extra costumes he didn't recognize, though, and he frowned at them, trying to work it all out. There wasof coursehis, and Jason's _(in all its torn-up glory),_ and Tim's. He saw Barbara's Batgirl suit as well, and another version of it he didn't recognize. Then there was a red-and-black outfit with a gold emblem in the chest, a pink-purple one with a hood, and then a black-and-gold costume that had a distinct armor feel to it and no cape.

"Who are all these heroes?" Dick asked quietly, mystified, more talking to himself than anyone else.

"Those are the three Robins," the fourth one told him primly, stepping up to his side, "ignore the broken one, Batman refuses to get rid of it and Red Hood says he likes the shrine. Then there's Batgirl, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Orphan."

"Batman's Clubhouse," Dick snorted, shaking his head. What happened to the brooding  _I work alone_ Batman, the one that made the concession for one sidekick because he learned it kept him human? Where did all these fucking heroes come from?

"Are there not this many on your Earth?" the kid asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dick shook his head, and became aware of Batman sitting at the computer in the background, clearly listening in to their conversation. "Batman had Robin 1, then Robin 2, then Robin 3, and then nothing."

The boy frowned. "What happened to the Robins?"

For a moment, Dick hesitated; this kid didn't need to know the gory details. But his hesitation faded quickly because  _Batman_ was listening, and Dick would never pass up an opportunity to try to get under the bat's skin.

So, he turned slightly, facing Batman when he spoke. The vigilante wasn't looking at him in turn, but his attention was clearly on the mercenary.

"Well, Robin 1 grew up and became Nightwing and did that for a while, but then he was captured, tortured, and raped for a few weeks." Both Batman and Robin went rigid. Dick smiled under his mask. "Robin 2 was kidnapped and beaten to death by the Joker, brought back to life, and then went on to do the Red Hood shit for a while. A few years later Robin 3 was _also_ kidnapped by the Joker, but this time the clown tortured the kid endlessly until Robin 3 lost his mind, killed the Joker, and then took his place. Some people call him  _Joker Junior,_ but I've met him, and he _really_ doesn't like that name."

Batman lowered his head, taking a few deep breaths, and Robin stormed off to the punching bags, going to town.

Dick snorted and rolled his eye, then strolled over to the large computer, looking at what the bat was focused on.

"The first Robin," Batman said quietly after a minute. Dick very carefully didn't react. "What happened to him? ...After, I mean."

"Dead," Dick said like it was nothing, shrugging a shoulder. "And after what happened to the three of them, my Earth's Batman never showed up with another child sidekick; I think by that point, he learned his lesson."

It was funny, actually. The Batman of this Earth knew what happened to Dick, but his own Batman back home still didn't know the specifics. How odd, that he found it so easy to tell this one, while he would've taken it to his grave in the other world.

There was the familiar echo of someone walking down the stone staircase and into the batcave, and Dick turned instinctively to see who it was, then sucked in a sharp breath.  _Tim._

He hadn't seen his brother in six years. Of course, he'd been around Joker 2.0 a good amount of times, but that wasn't the same. Joker Junior wasn't completely  _Tim_ anymore. Tim hadn't been Tim since the original Joker had spent weeks upon  _weeks_ taking him apart, and so interacting with the new Joker wasn't like being around his brother.

Tim had been clever and intelligent and  _kind._ Tim had been an amazing human being, and the Joker had destroyed his brother until there was nothing left. Every once in a while you could see a  _flicker_ of something other than pure madness, but not enough. Never enough.

At least with Jason, he was relatively the same. The second Robin was a bit darker than when he'd died, sure, but at his core he was pretty much the same. Snarky, sharp, brave, and smart. He hadn't lost any of that when he put down his red hood two years ago and picked up the black cowl. Despite the fact that they were now on opposite sides, Dick knew that he could always go to his brother if he needed him, and vice versa.

Neither of them could do that with Tim. He'd probably attempt to murder them if they did.

In the end, Dick hated the Joker even more than he hated Slade Wilson, and that was saying something.

"Oh," this Earth's Tim said in surprise, blinking at the mercenary currently in his home. His eyes flicked over to the wall of costumes and then back, anxious. "Uh. Batman?"

"He's from another Earth, Red Robin," the bat said.  _Red Robin?_ "Even if he knows your face, his world is very different; don't worry about secret identities right now."

There was something  _off_ about Tim, but Dick couldn't quite put his finger on it. Mannerisms? No, the same as he remembered. Height was about the same, eyes and hair, even clothing choice. It all matched Dick's Tim. So why did something feel  _off?_

Then it clicked, what was  _wrong_ about this picturehe was almost identical to the last time Dick had actually seen  _Tim,_ before the Joker took him. That had been six years ago, and yet this Tim still looked sixteen years old, not twenty-two like he should've been.

"How old are you?" Dick asked, keeping his voice level as Tim walked further into the room. Batman tilted his head up slightly towards the mercenary, but Dick ignored it; he didn't care about whatever the bat heard in his voice, not right now.

Tim rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He'd never done well in the batcave out of mask; he'd once said it felt wrong. And then adding in a villain? Tim must've been feeling so uncomfortable.

"Sixteen," he said. "Why?"

In the corner of his eye, Dick saw Batman shake his head, an infinitesimal movement. He didn't want Dick to tell Tim about the fate of his doppelganger, which was understandable. It made Dick want to say it, simply to make the bat's life harder.

But this was  _Tim._ In the flesh, truly there, not out of his mind, not wanting to kill them all. He couldn't ruin that.

So, Dick shrugged a shoulder absently, like he didn't really give a shit. "The Red Robin from my Earth looks older than you, is all. By six or so years, I'd say."

Tim's eyes lit up with curiosity, and it made Dick's heart clench.

Suddenly, Dick was struck by the need to escape. He couldn't stay in this place, surrounded by the things he used to love, confronted by the brother he'd lost. It was too much. He should never have agreed to go to the cave.

He should've shot Batman in the fucking face and been done with it.

"Really? That's so interestingI only became  _Red Robin_ less than a year ago, and there wasn't any previous holder of that title. On  _this_ Earth, at least. Maybe your Earth is a few years ahead? I wonder how that works..."

Dick's throat clogged up. The familiarity of Tim going on and on as he tried to solve a particularly annoying puzzle was too much. This was all _too much_

And then a breech opened right in the middle of the batcave.

It was far more controlled than the one that Dick had been pulled through, almost looking like a defined entity, pale white at the center and swirling blue-black around it. A figure stepped through, clearly having intended to come here, and when Dick saw who it was, he sighed.

"Well, shit."

The current Batman from his Earthhis stupid little brother, Jason Toddwalked calmly into this Earth's batcave, looking around curiously. His eyes landed on Dick, and he snorted.

"I win," he deadpanned.

"You're late," Dick shot back, raising an eyebrow. "You're slipping. How long did it take you to realize something was up and rush over to STAR Labs?"

Jason smirked at him. "This is the part where you say  _Thank you."_

Then, Jason seemed to notice the other people in the cave. He saw the tiny Robin first, and frowned in confusion. He saw the other Batman next, and snorted, and then he saw Tim. His jaw dropped.

"Holy shit!"

Tim blinked, glancing around. "What?"

Jason looked to Dick, confused, and the mercenary made a small gesture with his hand down by his side. Jason got the message.

"Uh," he started awkwardly, "nothing. You're just...small. Young. Not...the age you are back on our Earth."

Once more, Tim's eyes lit up. "So it  _is_ a defined year difference! That's incredible!"

Jason smiled, an easy grin, and Tim's eyes went a little wide; so did the fourth Robin's.

"Seeing Batman smile is  _so_ wrong," the boy muttered, shaking his head, and Tim nodded his agreement.

With a small chuckle, Jason's hands went up to the cowl, his intention to remove it obvious. But there was no way Dick could let that happen.

"What are you doing?" he asked sharply.

His brother froze, confused, and then understanding dawned. His eyes narrowed and he straightened, his hands lowering. "Come with me," he said coldly, and then turned, striding over to the far corner of the cave, still in line of sight but too far to hear.

When they'd been younger, they'd mapped out the cave and found this single location that wasn't be picked up by all the microphones in the cave. It had been where they would go to have private conversations, if they needed to.

"Now  _that_ is more like Batman," Tim said with a chuckle, nudging Robin. The small boy grinned and shoved him back.

Dick sighed, debated being difficult, and then followed his brother over to the corner.

"You haven't told them who you are," Jason said, his tone accusatory.

"That would be correct," Dick said lightly, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

"I wondered why you were still wearing the mask," Jason muttered, shaking his head. "So  _why,_ pray tell, did you keep this a secret?"

Dick just stared at his brother, hoping he was conveying as much  _Are you kidding me?_ as he could possibly manage.

Jason seemed to get the message, and grimaced. "Dick-"

"I'm not that kid anymore, Jay," Dick hissed. "I'm not his perky little sidekick, and fuck you if you're about to tell me to  _make amends_ or some bullshit. After everything our B didto _me,_ to  _you,_ to fucking  _Tim_ how can you  _possibly_ still be advocating for forgiving him? _Hell,_ Jason, you actually  _died!"_

"Sometimes I think that out of the three of us," Jason said calmly, "I'm the one who got off easy."

"He broke us," Dick snarled. "And then his guilt and his fucking antiquated sense of morality clouded his judgement and just made everything _worse._ I don't see why I should give this Earth's version the benefit of the doubt, when it's still Bruce Wayne, it's still Batman."

This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation, and it wouldn't be the last, but normally they were far drunker.

On that note- "I'm too sober for this discussion," Jason muttered, and Dick nodded in commiseration.

"Let's go back to  _our_ Earth and get a goddamn drink," Dick said with a snort.

Jason grimaced and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that."

Dick stared at him. "Please tell me you didn't just take a one-way trip to another Earth just to say  _hi."_

His brother straightened, indignant, and said, "No! It's just a two-step process, alright? We need to open the portal from both sides in order to establish the ability to go  _back_ to our Earth, which means we need to take a trip to STAR Labs over in Central City." He eyed Dick's uniform, and then his own. "Preferably in civies."

With a raised eyebrow, Dick said, "In case you've forgotten, there's another pair of us running around. I don't think it's a good idea to show our faces in public."

"Oh, yeah, where's-"

"You're still Red Hood and I'm still Nightwing," Dick said, knowing what the question would be. "Funny, isn't it? It's like traveling to the past, with just a few additions." He nodded towards the fourth Robin.

Jason snorted. "I _was_ curious about the kid. I like his costume; the cloak's a nice touch." He sighed. "Ya know, this would be so much simpler if you'd just take off your mask. B's not a stupid guy, he's gonna guess eventually."

"I told the bat and the kid what happened to us," Dick said flippantly. "I don't want to ruin all the doom and gloom just yet."

His brother stared at him incredulously. "Jesus  _fuck,_ Goldie, you didn't."

Dick hummed, feeling a surge of vicious pleasure. "Yup. It's a little funny, actuallythe Batman of this Earth officially knows more about what happened to me than ours does. I also told him about you being beaten to death and brought back, and then Tim's fate."

"I've had enough of this," Jason snapped, and then turned to head back over to the three vigilantes.

"What do you mean by that?" Dick asked warily, rushing after him. "Jay!" he hissed.

Batman watched them approach, examining them, and didn't say anything.

"Right," Jason said firmly, "we need to go to STAR Labs on this Earth in order to establish a two-way portal so we can get back home. I brought with me the notes of how to do it and this handy little device that I'm sure the scientists will understand far better than I do. So we'll take a trip to Central City and be out of your hair! Sound good?"

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Batman asked calmly.

Dick was already shaking his head. "Nope.  _Thanks,_ but we're good. We can figure this out without your aid."

The bat turned to look at Jason, examining the younger Batman, his costume just slightly different. "And you, Dick?"

Jason stilled. Dick went rigid.

"I'm sorry?" Jason asked, his voice breaking.

Batman sighed and pulled down his cowl, revealing Bruce Wayne. He looked so  _young,_ lacking the weight on his shoulders that had come after what happened to Tim. This was a Bruce Wayne who had suffered, but not nearly as much. This was a Bruce Wayne that still had all his children.

"That's who you are, isn't it?" Bruce asked sadly. "On your Earth, you became Batman. And Jason-" he nodded towards Dick, towards Deathstroke, "-continued even further along his path."

Both Dick and Jason were stunned into silence. Bruce was a very smart man, and his deduction made perfect sense. He was also very  _wrong._

And so, Jason burst into laughter. Dick scowled. Bruce blinked, taken aback.

"Close, B," Jason chuckled, "but not quite."

"Don't you dare," Dick warned, but his brother didn't listen, reaching up to pull down his own cowl.

Bruce, Tim, and Robin all gaped as Batman was revealed to be Jason Todd, the person they still knew as Red Hood. Jason smirked and ran a hand through his hair.

"Gotta say, when I get home, I'm gonna have to tell my Bruce that you called me Dick. That's priceless."

"You'll make him cry," Dick muttered dryly.

Jason chuckled and nodded. "Maybe, man. Maybe."

"Actually, yeah, please tell him," Dick added, a smile growing, "because that'll make him all depressed again and he'll stay out of my hair for a while."

Bruce was now staring at Dick, something cautious and almost  _afraid_ in his eyes. "So you're...Dick?"

Dick clenched his jaw and figured there was no point in keeping the mask on anymore. He reached up to undo the clasps, shaking his hair out, and then tucked the helmet under his arm.

"Surprise," he said with a roll of his eye.

He could see their wide-eyed gazes on him, especially in regards to the empty socket where his right eye used to be. Slade had used an eyepatch to cover up his. Dick didn't see the point.

"What happened to you?" Tim asked, horror laced through his voice.

Dick's heart clenched and he withheld a grimace. He didn't like Tim looking at him like that; on his Earth, he'd become Deathstroke  _after_ Tim became the Joker, so he hadn't had to face any possible disappointment or fear from his little brother. This was...not a fun experience.

"Life, kid. Slade Wilson, Joker, Blockbuster...take your pick. But I'm not going to get into it, because youfor all your good intentionswould  _not_ understand." He turned to look at Jason. "Let's go."

His little brother nodded grimly, probably seeing what Dick was feeling clear as day.

Before they could go anywhere, Bruce said, "More than likely, we possess all the tools you need right here in the batcave. Tim and I aren't quite master scientists, but I'm sure you both know we're quite good. If we can get you both back home from here then you don't have to worry about being spotted by anyone outside, or have to deal with getting the people at STAR Labs to agree to help you."

"And this way you'll also know how to travel easily between our words," Dick added coldly, derisively.

Bruce pursed his lips, looking troubled. He probably wasn't used to this treatment from his eldest son. Dick hoped it fucking  _hurt._

"That sounds good," Jason said cautiously, and Dick barely restrained himself from snarling  _Traitor._ He shouldn't expect any more from his brotherJason was Batman, the only son of Bruce Wayne to actually carry the legacy, who'da thunk it. He still carried a bit of resentment, but not nearly as much as he did as Red Hood, and _certainly_ not as much as Dick. He didn't mind staying in this cave, working with Bruce.

It made Dick's skin crawl.

Jason pulled a small black metal box from his utility belt and offered it to Bruce. "Our nerds came up with this thing. They called it some kind of stabilizer, said that their doppelgangers would know what to do with it. I also have-" he reached into a separate pocket and pulled out a few folded sheets of paper, "-some of their notes, as a starting place."

"Thank you, Jason," Bruce said. He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but then turned and sat back down at the computer, laying the papers out in front of him.

"So how old am I on your Earth?" Tim asked curiously. He was staring resolutely at Jason, Dick noticed, and completely avoiding looking at the mercenary. It made something very painful twist inside his chest and he turned away, not wanting to watch.

"Twenty-two," Jason replied.

"And neither of you recognized Damian, so you don't have a Robin? DiDeathstroke said that I was Red Robin over there, but I can't imagine leaving you to be  _Batman_ by yourself."

Dick could feel Jason's gaze fall on him, confused. Dick had said that he told them what happened to the Robins, but clearly not to Tim.

"You've got a lot on your plate," Jason said cautiously, "with your own hero shit, and everything. We...still see each other, but I'm the only hero in Gotham."

The little Robin, the one Tim had called  _Damian,_ had moved away from the group. He was standing over by a small wall of knives, staring at them but not moving otherwise. His back was to the rest of the room, so Dick couldn't see his face, but the kid's hands were balled into fists.

Not knowing what made him do it, Dick approached the young hero, stepping up next to him. The boy's eye twitched but he didn't otherwise react to his presence.

After about half a minute, Damian muttered, "Grayson has always preached against taking lives. I do not like that there is a version of him who does it for a living."

Dick blinked in surprise. This kid... _knew_ him. The familiarity in his voice, the depression, the longingthis wasn't just Bruce's newest Robin, this was _family._

Strangely, it made Dick want to comfort this kid he'd never even met.

"Our world is very different," Dick said gently. "It's a lot harsher, and has not been kind to the members of our family. There's a lot of anger and resentment between me and my Bruce, and it set me on my path, much like it did for Jason becoming Red Hood. But kid,  _your_ Dick Grayson hasn't experienced any of that, and he  _isn't_ me. If he tells you killing is wrong, believe that he means it. He's Nightwing, right? I remember being Nightwing, and my firm morals. Listen to your Dick, Damian. Believe in his morals, not the actions of a fucked-up version."

The boy didn't reply, but Dick heard him sniffle once, before turning sharply on his heels and heading for the sparring mats. Dick quirked a smile and, after a moment's deliberation, grabbed them both katanas from the wall and followed him over.

"You know how to use this thing, kid?" Dick asked. "Because Bruce sure as hell didn't keep shit like this in the cave when  _I_ was Robin."

Damian lifted his chin indignantly. "Of course I can use it! I could hold a blade before I could  _walk."_

Dick blinked. "Well that's...new."

The kid smirked and caught the katana deftly from the air when Dick tossed it to him. After a moment's pause, where they both settled into stances, Damian threw himself forward, and the sparring began.

Damian was definitely good, Dick could admit that freely. He had good instincts, and Dick could easily believe that the kid had been training with weapons his whole life. It made him very curious about  _why,_ though.

When Dick gave his first bit of constructive criticism, the kid bristled and snapped at him, but did, in fact, follow the instruction the next time they came together. After that, he seemed far more receptive to Dick's corrections, letting the mercenary help him train.

Another thing Dick was curious aboutthis Robin was far more vicious than any of his predecessors; why had Bruce agreed to take him in? Dick could easily see this kid becoming a mercenary or assassin. It wasn't like Bruce to try and  _reform_ bloodthirsty children.

Maybe...maybe this Earth's Dick had been the one to find him, take him in. Damian clearly felt a strong bond to his Earth's Grayson, and Dick knew himself well enough to know that back when he was Nightwing, he would've been willing to give anyone a chance to be a hero, even a vicious little preteen like this.

"Where'd you come from, kid?" Dick asked, mid-spar.

"The League of Shadows," Damian replied primly. The answer surprised Dick enough that he didn't dodge an easy punch, and grimaced as Damian's fist connected with his jaw. The kid laughed softly, grinning up at him as he darted out of range of one of Dick's kicks.

"How the  _hell_ did a born assassin end up as Batman's Robin?" he asked incredulously.

Something vulnerable passed over Damian's face and he didn't go in for another attack, so Dick didn't, either.

"Grayson made the decision," Damian said quietly. "I...came here, and father did not wish..." He scowled. "We had our problems, at the beginning. But Grayson chose me to be Robin. He is the reason I am where I am today, why the villains I face do not end up dead when I beat them."

"Father?" Dick echoed questioningly, not wanting to have to face the rest of what the kid just told him.

Damian nodded. "Yes; I am Bruce Wayne's biological son."

Dick blinked, and then stared. The pieces fell together, and the age. He whirled around, facing where Bruce and the others were talking, and shouted, "You made a fucking kid with Talia al Ghul?!"

Bruce went rigid in his seat. Jason's lips parted in surprise and then he grinned.

"Always _knew_ there was something between you and that chick," Jason said, laughing. "Too much sexual tension, just like Catwoman."

"Do I not exist on your Earth?" Damian asked curiously, unperturbed by the conversation.

Dick looked back to him and sighed softly. "Not that I know of, Damian. After Tim...there wasn't another Robin, and no other children ever arrived at Wayne Manor. Maybe on our Earth you're still with the League."

Damian made a sound of acknowledgment and examined Dick with an appraising eye. Then he nodded sharply, as if coming to a decision, and said, "Find him, then. The  _me._ If I do exist, that is."

With surprise clear in his tone, Dick asked, "...Why?"

The young hero smirked at him. "Because you need him, Grayson. Nowpick up your katana, and let us go again."

They continued training for the next fifteen minutes, only breaking apart when Jason approached and signaled Dick over.

"So what's the news?" Dick asked immediately, once they were out of hearing range from the kid.

"You're not going to like it," Jason said wryly. "They can do it here, but it's going to take at least six hours until it's stable enough for a person to go through and not be ripped apart."

"Then-"

"The people at STAR Labs back on my Earth said it would probably take some time," Jason interrupted, probably knowing what his protestation was about to be. "Going to Central City right now won't do us any good, Dick. So just calm down and settle in." He eyed him. "Maybe take a shower and get some sleep."

Dick scowled at him. "I have absolutely zero interest in entering the Manor."

"Alfred-" Jason began, but cut himself off at the chilly look in his older brother's gaze. He sighed softly and looked down. "Dick, none of what happened-"

"I'm going out," Dick announced, turning on his heels and striding away from his brother. They'd had this argument before. He had no interest in doing it again,  _especially_ not in the batcave.

Damian perked up. "Patrol?"

Dick stared at him for a moment almost incredulously. When was the last time he went on patrol? It was...four and a half years, thereabouts. He and Bruce had a screaming match on the roof of a thirty-story building. They'd beaten each other bloody before Jason dragged Bruce off of him. And Bruce had said...

Well. Things that didn't need repeating, that's for sure. It's not like Dick was entirely innocent, of course; he certainly hadn't held back either.

"Sorry, kid," Jason started to say, when Dick remained silent, "I don't think that's what-"

"Yes," Dick interrupted. "Let's go on patrol, Damian."

The boy beamed at him and raced towards the exit. Dick started after him, ignoring the incredulous look he was receiving from Jason.

He was pulled up short, however, when he heard Bruce say, "Dick. This isn't your Earth; if you're going on patrol with Robin, then you will use nonlethal force on everyone you come across. Otherwise, you  _cannot_ go."

Dick felt himself instinctively bristling at the pure  _command_ in Batman's tone. He hated that fucking voice.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" he snarked back, and then slipped outside before the hero could say anything else.

He followed Damian silently across the rooftops, getting a feel for how the kid did patrol, what paths he frequently, what stops he liked to take. After a little while the young hero turned and offered him something, which Dick took automatically, and then stared down at it.

"It's a comm link," Damian explained unnecessarily.

"Yes," Dick agreed. "Why are you giving it to me?"

Damian's face scrunched up. "So we can remain in contact if we split up," he said impatiently. "Grayson always-"

"Fine, fine," Dick mumbled, putting the thing in his ear under his helmet. Jesus Christ; how had he managed to convince himself going on patrol was actually a good fucking idea?

And it was certainly...odd. Restraining himself from lethal force wasn't something he'd had to worry about in years, and he was sure his fighting style was a little clunky now that he was struggling against his normal habits. His blows had to be softer, his movements less complete, lest he break a neck without meaning to.

And _for the fucking record_ he wasn't doing it because Bruce told him to. He was doing it because for some fucking reason he didn't want to let the brat with him down.

It was irritating, and Dick certainly didn't like it. Yet, between doing patrol, waiting at the cave, or abandoning Damian, he found that this was somehow the least distasteful option before him.

But, two and a half hours into the night, everything got  _weirder._

As in, Red Hood made an appearance.

Dick heard the footsteps in the alley and instantly recognized the tread, having spent countless nights with Jason, but they were lighter than the Batman suit made Jason sound. Which meant...

"Since when are you working with this fucker, Robin?" Jason _Red Hood_ drawled, standing at the end of the ally, arms crossed. He was wearing his helmet, but Dick could practically _hear_ the raised eyebrow. "And while we're on the subjectwhat the fuck are you wearing, Deathstroke? Trying to emulate the genius that is me with a leather jacket?"

Dick snorted. "Yeah, _genius_ isn't the word I'd use for you, Hood."

Jason head cocked slightly to the side. He was probably confused; Dick's voice was certainly different from Slade Wilson, and so was his body type and the way he held himself. This younger version of Jason was probably trying to reconcile the mercenary with someone that was reminding him distantly of his big brother.

"Move along, Red Hood," Damian said haltingly. "We are working together briefly on a job for Batman."

"Oh, if the king has given his permission then who am I to stop you?" Jason agreed sarcastically. Dick couldn't help but grin.

"Ya know," the mercenary murmured, quiet enough that only the people on the comm could hear him, "I'm really wishing that Jay had still be actively working as Red Hood when I became Deathstroke, because I have a feeling we would've had a  _lot_ of fun together."

Red Hood startled, and Dick realized a second too late that the second Robin was hooked up to the same comm system, since at this point in his life he was actually working on patrol.

"Well, shit," Damian sighed, and Dick heard Jason _his_ Jason, back in the caveecho the sentiment across the line.

"What the fuck is going on?" Red Hood demanded.

Dick and Damian glanced at each other. Something passed between them. And then, they ran.

The mercenary laughed as they finally ditched his little brother, grinning under his mask. A quick glance at the young hero beside him showed much the same mirth.

His mood was slightly dampened as they made their way back towards the Manor and the batcave. He'd actually...had fun, maybe. Doing patrol with the kid.

Oh, whatever. That didn't mean jackshit. It didn't change anything. He just wanted to get the fuck home.

"If I know myself," Jason _his_ Jasonsmirked as the reentered the cave, "it won't take long for him to make his way here and figure out what all that was. Good work, Goldie."

Dick simply flipped him the bird.

"Currently Red Hood is distracted by a giant gang war that just erupted by his apartment," Bruce told them casually. "He won't be showing up here tonight."

They all stared at him. Dick and Jason snorted at the implication.

"Tim, Damian, it's time for you both to go to bed," Bruce said next. "No buts," he added, just as Damian was opening his mouth to complain. The bat wasn't even facing his son; he'd simply known.

"C'mon, Damian," Tim mumbled, nodded towards the stairs. "It's three in the morning; time for sleep."

Damian scowled at him, and then turned to stare at Dick as the mercenary once again removed his helmet. There was a pregnant pause, during which Dick stared right back, and then Damian flung himself forward, wrapping his arms around Dick's waist in a hug.

Dick froze, staring down at the child with a wide eye, his arms held slightly aloft, unsure what to do.

The young hero pulled away from him before he could make up his mind, striding towards the stairs that would take him back to the manor without a backwards glance.

Tim's jaw was dropped, and even Bruce looked extremely surprised, under all that forced blankness.

"Right," Tim said hesitantly, glancing between Dick and where the young boy had just vanished. "I'll, uh. Good to...meet you both. Good luck." He made his exit, quickly moving up the stairs.

"Figures that the demon child would be the one to like you," Jason said dryly, and then smirked at the look Dick shot him. "Well, I don't have your compunctions about the Manor, so I'm gonna go take a shower and grab a snack; the breech should be good to go in another couple hourswho knows? Maybe I'll actually get a fucking nap."

"Jason," Dick hissed, following his brother. "Don't you dare leave me here with him!"

"You're welcome to come with me," Jason replied breezily, as if he didn't understand why Dick hated it so much. "Your choice, Dickie Boy."

And with that, he vanished up the stairs, leaving Dick alone in the cave with Bruce. Silence fell.

Dick pursed his lips and glanced around, feeling antsy. Bruce had stayed exactly where he was, and was now sitting very still, like he was afraid of attracting any conversation if he moved. He shouldn't have worried; Bruce was emotionally constipated, and Dick no longer felt the need to bridge that gap. He no longer felt the need to do  _anything_ with Bruce, and luckily the man was stunted enough to not make an attempt, either.

"Can I...ask you something?" Bruce said slowly.

Dick cursed in his head; not stunted enough, apparently.

"You can ask," he said with a smirk that Bruce didn't see. He went over to the training mats and threw himself down, flopping on his back with his hands behind his head. There was no bed in the cave, not even a goddamn couch, so this would have to do.

Bruce sighed softly, so quiet Dick barely heard it, and then stood up. Dick watched the hero approach from the corner of his eye, wariness growing. When the man was close, he sat down in a chair just a few feet away, in easy line of sight. His face was almost expressionless, but Dick knew the man well enough to recognize the signs of disquiet in him.

"What you told me about what happened to the first Robin; was it true? Or just something you said to get under my skin?"

Dick debated lying. It would make everything easier; he could say that he'd only told that story to make Bruce uncomfortable, to make him feel bad, but it hadn't happened. That Dick had just snapped one day. He could say that. But frankly, he didn't want to.

"It was true." His tone was flippant, like it was no big deal. "I exaggerated about the  _Dead_ part, but not the rest."

"Dick-" Bruce began.

"Save it," the mercenary snorted. "Your apologies or whatever you were about to saythey don't mean shit. You don't understand what's gone on on my Earth, so don't pretend to know."

There was a tense pause. Then- "Why don't you want to go into the Manor?"

Dick turned his head, glancing at the hero sharply. Bruce waited.

"Why's it matter?" Dick snapped. He pushed himself into a seated position, no longer liking the vulnerability of lying flat.

Bruce didn't say anything for a while, regarding Dick carefully.

"This is hard," he said eventually, softly. "I'm not...Dick and I have fought plenty through the years, but I've never seen him look at me the way you are now."

"What, like you don't walk on water?" Dick snarked.

"Like I hurt you."

Anything else Dick had to say died in his throat. Bruce took his silence to continue.

"Even Jason at his worst didn't look at me like this. Betrayal, fury, painall of that was there, like it is in you. But you...you look like you're waiting for  _me_ to hurt you, like I, personally, was the one to do you harm. And I just...I want to understand. What Iwhat  _he_ did, your Bruce. Will you tell me?"

"It doesn't matter," Dick said tiredly, looking away. "I'm simply not your biggest fan. You're not special. You're barely a blip on my radar, Batman."

 _Liar,_ a voice in his head whispered.  _Shut up,_ he snarled back.

"Tell me anyway," Bruce replied.

"Why?" Dick snapped.

"Alright, how about thismaybe you telling me will keep it from happening on this Earth," Bruce replied stubbornly. "You're about six years ahead, right? Maybe this could still happen."

Dick's blood ran cold. He was moving before he was even consciously aware of it.

Bruce jerked back in his seat as Dick appeared in front of him, gun pressed firmly against the underside of the hero's chin, his lips twisted in a snarl. Fury, pain, fear. Bruce could probably see it all plain as day.

The hero calmed himself quickly, not fighting against Dick's hold or the obvious threat at his throat. He met Dick's furious gaze with a steady look of his own.

"I can't stop it if I don't know," Bruce said quietly. "I don't want to be responsible for  _anything_ that makes you feel this way. I want to be able to take precautions against it, whatever it is. Tell me what happened, Dick."

"You gave me up, alright?" Dick snarled. "You-" He took a deep breath, forcing himself into relaxing. He didn't remove the gun.

"The villains had organized themselves into a weird society and were attempting to take over the world. The JL was doing everything to stop it. Slade Wilson knew our real identities, and he came to the Manor with a practical army. It was just you and me there at the momentTim had just gone loony, Jason was out being Red Hood, and I was trying to keep  _you_ alive, since you seemed determined to run yourself into the ground because of what  _you_ let happen to Tim.

"You and I are good, but we aren't  _take on one hundred men by ourselves_ good. Wilson knew he had us dead to rights. It was like a  _game_ to him. So he offered a dealGotham would be left _completely alone_ if we allowed ourselves to be taken. And we were who we were, so we agreed.

"Now, Wilson had always had a bit of a fixation on me. So while we were letting ourselves be bound, he felt me up a little. You threatened him, of course, as Batman does, but then Slade saidand I'll  _never_ forget these fucking words _Be honest, Wayne; if I bent your boy over and fucked him right now, would you try to stop me? Knowing it would mean I'd walk out those doors and murder the next thousand civilians I came across? Would you choose his virtue or their lives?"_

Dick snorted, shaking his head. "And I could see the fucking choice in your eyes. You hated yourself for it, sure, but we all knew the answer. And Wilson laughed, the sadistic bastard that he was, and then knocked you unconscious. And they...left you there. His thugs set you down, alive and relatively unharmed, and dragged me towards the exit. Wilson saw my expression and said  _Come on, kid; if he'd fought for you, maybe I would've stuck to the original deal. Instead, I think we're going to have some quality time."_

Bruce looked nauseous. Dick was savagely pleased about it.

"The heroes won in the end, of course, just a few days later. But you...never came. I waited. Wilson showed me the news and the papers proclaiming the JL's victory and Batman's triumph in Gotham, but you were  _nowhere._ Eventually, I got  _myself_ out. I lost an eye in the process, but I got free, and I put a bullet straight through Wilson's brain.

"But when I got home, you were...you were relieved to see me, of course, but you had other things on your mind that I guess mattered more. Tim had just taken over as the new Joker, and that took precedent. You honestly couldn't comprehend why I was so angry. After I just spent three weeks in  _hell,_ you didn't understand.

"Jason did, to no surprise. He knew what was going on in my head, and he watched me  _very_ carefully over the next month, waiting for me to snap. I got harsher and harsher on patrols, permanently wounding a lot of the villains I fought. One day, you'd had enough. We had it out, and it was _bloody._ Jason had to drag you off me. You were grieving for Tim and pissed about my attitude. You said some shit that...Well, you told me we were done. I readily agreed.

"Next time I saw you, almost a year later, I was owning the colors and name of my rapist and killing whoever I felt like. Only  _then_ did you start to feel guilty, but it didn't matter. It didn't mean shit." He pushed himself away, tucking his gun back into its holster. "It still doesn't."

The cave fell deadly silent.

Dick waited, body tense as a live wire, but he wasn't sure what he wanted Bruce to say. This wasn't even  _his_ Bruce, wasn't the man who'd made that decision, who'd left Dick in the care of torturers and killers for three weeks, and probably would've for longer if Dick hadn't escaped. This wasn't that man. But he had the same face and name and demeanor and he was still the man who would always save lives, no matter what.

A thousand lives against Dick's sanity? No choice at all.

It made sense. Strategically, logically, it was the smart play.

But it still hurt more than Bruce could possibly understand. To be reduced to nothing more than a bargaining chip between two men who thought so very highly of themselves. To be told by your father, the man you've looked up to for  _years,_ that you're worth less than people he didn't know...

Jason could preach all he liked; Dick wasn't getting over this any time soon.

"How did Jason forgive your Bruce for that?" Bruce asked eventually, his voice jarring in the silence.

Dick frowned and looked over at him. "What?"

"Joker beat Jason to death and I didn't kill the maniac; Jason refuses to forgive me for that, which I understand. And if I'm correct, he went through the exact same thing on your Earth. So why after being Red Hood did he see this happen to you and forgive me?"

Dick snorted, shaking his head. "Tim was  _gone,_ Bruce. And I was going off the deep end. Jason was suddenly the sanest of your children, in a weird goddamn twist of fate. His way of coping with everything was to try to push forcibly past it. He vanished for a year, and when he came back, you gave him the cowl. I wasn't exactly privy to how that transfer went, but it happened."

Silence fell again.

"I can't speak for your Bruce," the hero said eventually, "because our lives are still different. But I can tell you that on this Earth, if Joker were to harm another of my children, if Deathstroke did  _that_ to you...Superman himself wouldn't be able to stop me."

Dick's breath caught, his eye going wide.

The computer chose that moment to chirp, startling them both. After an awkward pause, they made their way over to the thing.

"Seems it took less time than estimated," Bruce mumbled. "We should be able to open a stable breech within five minutes." He glanced at Dick, who stared resolutely at the screen. "I'll...go grab your brother."

Dick nodded sharply, and after a moment's hesitation, Bruce left. Dick yanked his helmet back on, refusing to let anyone see the way his one good eye was tearing up.

Bruce reappeared a few minutes later with Jason in tow, his hair damp, his Batman uniform being carried in one arm.

"Seems we're good to go!" his little brother said with a smirk. "And you were worried about having to spend a couple more hours here."

"Yeah, yeah," Dick muttered, not in the mood for levity. "Let's get this show on the road."

Jason faltered, his brow furrowing in concern, and then nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Opening the breech was relatively easy, and once they were sure that it wouldn't collapse on them or split them into a million pieces, Dick went striding through. He heard Jason shoot off a quick goodbye before hurrying after him.

With a strange  _woosh_ sound, the breech once again closed behind them.

Dick took a deep breath, taking in the familiar smells of his city, and then let it out, some of the anxiety fading from his chest. It was dark, and there was a faint breeze. Everything felt slightly better.

"Dick?" Jason prompted.

"I think he was telling the truth," Dick murmured, tilting his head back towards the sky. "I think he would've done it."

"What do you mean?" his little brother asked.

"I told him everything, how it all went down. And he told me...Well, he said that if Joker had hurt another one of his kids, and if Wilson had done that to one of them, even Superman wouldn't have been able to stop him."

Jason's breath caught, just like Dick's had. The mercenary smiled slightly, a small, soft thing that he was relieved was covered by his mask.

"It doesn't really make any of this better, because he's not the one who really did it. But it's...nice. To know there's a version of B who wouldn't have held back after  _everything_ we've been through."

"Yeah," Jason agreed softly. "Yeah it...it actually is."

They stayed like that for a little while, and then Jason squeezed his shoulder. "I'm gonna head home. I'll see you soon, yeah?"

Dick hummed his agreement, nodding, and his brother left.

The mercenary spent the next hour in that same spot, watching as the sun eventually began to rise over the water. And when the people of Gotham started getting up, Dick headed over to his bike, intent on getting back to one of his safehouses and sleeping for a week.

He paused, however, and took out his phone to look one thing up, something he had to know, an almost-promise he had to keep.

Dick smiled when the results came upa location in the states. "Alright, Damian al Ghul; I'm coming for you."

**Author's Note:**

> This is soooooo much longer than it was supposed to be lol. Hope ya liked it anyway!


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